Three Libras
by Dead-Kenny-Dead
Summary: Three's a crowd, that's what the saying goes. When you spend most of your social life with those people, the crowd can seem welcome. Stylenny Stan/Kyle/Kenny. SLASH. Multi-chaptered.
1. Peep

Sometimes, the very best of life happens when the very worst of you is unmasked. Worst of all, the best of life happens usually when you don't have time to appreciate it, and then you throw it away like garbage.

I'm one of those people; at least I think I am. Been dying on and off since third grade, and it still happens whenever something good takes place. Do you know how many times I've missed a friend's birthday? Missed a day where Jesus or someone came down and played kickball with the guys? Hell, I always end up missing it.

But, perhaps it's for the best. After all, who really misses me? Cartman, the fatass he is, barely gives a shit about living people much less the dead. And Kyle and Stan…I'm not sure. Maybe they feel bad for a moment, but I always come back, right? It's not a permanent thing, not like with anyone else. Dad's usually too boozed up to notice I'm gone, and Mom's busy fighting with him all the time. Kevin's gone now (last I heard he was hitting it up with some traveling fair people. Good for him, drunken bastard), and ever since no one's been there to miss me.

So why do I keep coming back? What's the point?

I used to say because God hates me. But after meeting that mole, Christophe was his name I believe, I didn't want to be a dick and steal his line. That's just not cool to do to a guy…everyone has to have one cool line! Anyways, it got me thinking a lot about the real reason I keep coming back to South Park. And, after turning eighteen, I think I might know the answer.

Time to go up and find out.

"Oh, hey Kenny." That's all I get when I walk up to Kyle's doorstep, all the reaction he has to me being ripped to pieces by an airplane engine (please don't ask. I don't want to explain). I'm just glad that my parka's still able to cover my face, to at least shield my appearance of hurt.

"Hey dude. Gamesphere?" came my muffled reply. After all, wasn't that Stan on the couch cursing at some violent videogame? Had to mean that they were in the middle of some sort of epic killing spree.

My red-haired friend nodded. "Yeah. C'mon, extra controller's waiting. Stan sucks at driving a tank."

I heard a grunt. "Says the guy who can't hit a zombie three inches away from his face with a bazooka!" Stan's black hair, sticking up in odd places from under the brim of his hat oddly gave the blue-and-red monstrosity charm. His brown coat was strewn off to the side, just leaving him in his old white "Moop" band tee shirt. As we had gotten older, Stan was the one graced with muscular tone. Sure, he was still skinny and lanky like most of us, but you could see the tone in his arms. He just looked like he would hurt you, but we all knew that the Marsh kid was too relaxed for his own good. Hell, if my brother was anything like his sister, I would be too! He had his tongue in his teeth, even though the game was on pause. "I don't want to die again, Kyle. Not for the thirteenth time."

Kyle just laughed. "That's why we have Kenny, man." I knew he was teasing, but I still had to send him a little bit of a friendly glare. He's changed a lot too, now that I think of it. His curly hair—god I mean it was a freaking afro when he was a kid—had finally tamed itself to a short, wavy mane. It framed his face where it flicked out of his hat, still the same weird-ass name hat. Ushu…Oosha…Gah! It's just Kyle's hat, that's what I've called it. He was the shortest one of us all, which always made him an even bigger target for Cartman's antics. Compared to Stan, he looked like a healthy skeleton. Oh, the kid ate, don't get me wrong. He just wasn't one to pick up a lot of muscle. The Broflovski kid just wasn't one to look threatening in that sense. Wordplay was more of his forte, if you asked me. If he put more effort into his schoolwork, he could probably take the ranks as the smartest kid in class. Socially, thank Jesus he didn't. He stretched, his orange tee shirt only slightly too big to fit him. "So scoot over, and let him drive."

I smiled. At least they're here.

Three of us on the field. Sixteen-thousand something enemies stalking us. We each are lucky to have a grenade and one last clip of ammo left. After that, it's up to our fists to save us. Pixilated fists, of course! I'm right between Kyle and Stan, shoulder to shoulder with the only other two players on this game. Stan's stretched out as far as he can get, swinging the controller so wildly that I think he's going to end up giving himself a black eye if he keeps it up. And Kyle…I don't know how he can play Gamesphere while curled up into a little ball myself. His character on the screen sends a grenade flying right into the most infested area, and all that reads on his face is concentration.

"Dude, to your left!" The loud voice makes me jump; it's right behind me. Ike. Damn, he's become a little sneak as of late! Like his advice helps; my poor guy is trampled and torn to bits.

Damn. Even in a videogame, I always die.

"Oh my God! They killed Kenny!"

Wait for it. "You bastards!"

I can't help but shake my head and smile. Some things never change, apparently. Kyle's little brother just laughs and heads up to his room to do…well…whatever it is genius little brothers do, I guess. Don't have one myself, so I guess it's an experience you'll only be able to observe from afar if you aren't blessed with it. It's for the best. It was tempting to strangle him for making me lose my bonus upgrades.

I can tell Kyle feels my annoyance, and like the big brother should: "He's just a kid man. I'll kick him later."

"Yeah," I reply. I had shed my parka some time ago, leaving me in my matching orange pants and nothing else. Yeah, my family's still poor. Once I outgrew all of my old shirts, they were only good to trade in to get a bigger parka. I don't know how I did it, I mean, I'm as skinny as they come. You try living on pop-tarts and mustard-free sandwiches for the last eighteen years of your life, and then come back to me and say how easy it is to gain weight. I was hoping I'd stay small enough to at least wear out all of my clothing first. Bah. Life can suck like that.

"You still kick your brother dude?" Stan piped in, his own character dead now thanks to that hidden zombie on the ceiling. He sets his controller down, leaning back with me and closing his eyes. "That's pretty messed up."

Kyle pouts, and it makes me smile a little. "He doesn't go through the window anymore. I don't think it counts like it did before."

I couldn't help but add to the conversation. "Oh yeah, it counts."

It took only fifteen seconds of explanation before Kyle's character was squashed by the boss zombie. Thus, our epic killing spree ended up an epic death spree. Kyle unfurled himself from his odd shape, tossing the controller near the television and leaning back on the couch with us. "No fair…you distracted me."

I couldn't help but notice Stan's odd little smile.

Ah, this part I guess I should explain. You see, I've been noticing something about my friends Stan and Kyle lately. Ever since we hit sophomore year of high school, they've gotten closer than friends. There were always rumors being spread around, but no real facts to back it up. Most people just threw it away to them being as close as they were. But…

You don't look at a friend the way Stan and Kyle look at each other.

Let me tell you a little something. I've done the dirty before. Done it enough during sophomore and junior year to know that look when someone digs you that way. Bebe gave me that look more than once, and I followed it more than once. Couple of other kids gave me the same look, and it always ends up with sex my way. Sometimes, I guess, the other person can really care about you. Haven't met the person that cares about me like that yet, and I don't think I care to. I've had enough of whoring around to last me, despite what everyone says. I'd much rather have cigarettes.

But Stan can give Kyle that look, and I can tell it's not just about getting it on. He used to give that look to Wendy back in middle school. It's that look of "oh, you're going to be my next big thing." I hate to admit it, but Stan's the kind of guy who gets attached to people very easily. Kyle…well…

Kyle's relationships have been close to nonexistent. We made it a point to not count the small little pecks he would "experiment" with other chicks. The only reason we did that was because that's the farthest he'd ever go. As we got older, he seemed to stay in that same ol' shell of "No girls allowed." Sure, Cartman gave him hell for it, but the fatass was right. Our poor little Jewish friend is gay, and he didn't even know it.

Now that we've gotten to our senior year of high school, he's finally admitted it to himself. I can see that in the way he smirks back at Stan. People's eyes can't lie all that well, if they haven't taught themselves how.

After some dinner and another round of trying to conquer zombies, it was time for two options. Option A: go home. Usually it's the option we all take. Stan goes back to his lovely abode, and I go back to my little hellhole. I'm usually lucky enough to die that I miss sleeping there at night anyways, so it's not a big thing if I have to go. But tonight…Option B: crash with Kyle.

Tonight was the night of Option B.

Now don't get me wrong. I love spending time with the guys. But I love the shower just as much, and I swept up the first night's shower faster than anyone else. That's what being skinny gets me, and I'm able to slip past the other two as they jam shoulder to shoulder trying to get through the doorway.

"Damn it Kenny! It's my shower!"

I make a little raspberry at our host for the evening. "Dibs."

It's Stan laughing that perks my suspicion. "Dude, let him have it. I gotta show you something on the internet anyways, it'll make ya laugh."

Undress. Turn on the shower. Hop in.

It's a very simple process, and the rewards are glorious. Away with greasy hair and dirt smudges that always linger a couple of days after you get cleaned up. I can't scrub away my situation, can't scrub away being cursed and poor. But I can scrub away the evidence once in a while. Sometimes, I can still come across a bruise or a cut that seems to ghost itself onto my skin. Lingering effects of dying, I guess. Band-Aids usually solve the problem really quickly and affectively. Sometimes it'll be a deep cut, one that doesn't bleed but leaves a scar. Don't worry; I'm not into the whole slashing-of-one's-wrists thing. I'd just come back anyways.

Even though I'm already clean, I just sit there in the hot water and let it rinse over my body. I can't count how many times I do this whenever something's lingering on my mind. It's always a different reason. Sometimes, it's wondering why we can afford alcohol, but not a proper meal. It frisks onto the reasoning of my whole existence, and why fear death when I can come back? Tonight, it's different.

Why am I jealous?

Okay, I know. Kenny McCormick can be jealous of a lot of things. Like the luxury of warm water, for instance. I'm not talking about frivolous things like that. It's what Stan and Kyle have between them, implied or not. It's the closeness that they've always had. Call me gay if you want, but I want that too. I don't have a Super Best Friend. It hurts to see people like that, if you believe it or not. Makes me wonder why I haven't found someone like that yet.

Hell. Maybe I'm just not trying hard enough.

It's time to get out; all the hot water's gone. The bathroom's still steamy from the high temperature, just the way I like it. And even though the water's gone, the thoughts still linger.

Why am I so jealous?

It's a simple matter. Throw a towel around my waist, head back to the room. It's not like I have a pair of pajama's running around with me. I always have to ask to borrow a pair, no big deal. I know I've taken a good hour long shower by now; all the lights are off. The adults are off sleeping, Ike the tyke's probably passed out as well. Strange though…

Why's Kyle's light off?

Simple Kenny. They got tired of waiting on your ass and they went to bed. It's as simple as that. So forgive me if I'm a little startled when I give the knob a small turn and I hear heavy panting.

"Shut up Stan, my folks are sleeping!" came a harsh whisper, obviously Kyle. More heavy panting, and I can hear the rustling of clothing and bed sheets. What the hell?!

"Ngh…Ky…" I know those sounds. Oh god. I almost walked in on my friends having sex. Shit! I just stood there; hand still on the doorknob and listening to them. It was the only thing I could think to do in the situation. It's kind of shocking to catch your best friends in the middle of going at it; it'll freeze your feet to the spot.

I shouldn't do this. I should just walk back in the bathroom and pretend I didn't see anything. That's the right thing to do, then that way I could talk about it later. But no. That's not what I did. Quietly as I could, I turned the knob and cracked open the door. I felt my heart race in my chest, my eyes wide with surprise and…wait…what the hell was I doing?!

Actually, I was surprised to see Kyle on top. He's never seemed to fit that stereotypical role, of course, of being what's expected of him. His body was curved into the junction of Stan's legs nicely, the sheets thrown back and holy hell did I get a good view. I just watched him grind his hips slowly in and out of Stan, one of his hands splayed on the dark-haired boy's stomach and the other slowly pumping the already-slickened shaft displayed for him. In the darkness I couldn't see Kyle's face, but I could sure feel the satisfaction he was obviously grinning. Stan's legs wrapped themselves around Kyle's rear to prevent him from going anywhere but deeper. One of his hands was gripped tight in the under sheet, the other splayed over his face in some sort of half-embarrassed way to hide. It was Stan that made those odd little sucking sounds, muffled moans, and shrill yelps.

And he gave another one as Kyle sped up.

No matter what I did, tearing my eyes away and giving my two friends privacy was not a feasible option. Seeing them together only threw my already-confused mind into a painful reminder. I didn't have someone that close to me. Before I knew it, I was rubbing myself along to their rhythm.

"Oh God!" Stan squeaked, his hands moving to cling to Kyle's shoulders. I watched and pumped in time as Kyle shifted his hands to dig into Stan's hips, grunting as lusty urges overtook them. I had to stay my hand quietly against the doorframe to gain proper footing. It was sad, really. I'm jacking off to my friends having sex.

Kenny McCormick, when will it end?

"S…stan…" I hear Kyle pant, and I secretly wish that it could have been my name on his tongue.

"Ugh…Kyle, I…gah!" That could be me making Stan swoon like that. I have to bite my tongue, my mind delving into taking the other's place just for a moment. It looks so much more meaningful than all the sex I've ever had. So forbidden. It's unfair, really. Why can't it be me?

The knot growing in the pit of my belly is close to release, and I realize that I've caught up to their pace pathetically quick. I will my hand to stay at their same speed; give my hopeless fantasy one more breath of life. Kyle leans down and captures Stan's lips with his own, muffling out the yowl of pleasure I'm sure he'll give.

With a shudder, it's all over for the three of us.

Kyle goes rigid, his body giving a little spasm as he keeps his mouth firmly planted over our noisy friend. I hear the throaty rasp for breath, imagining that Stan's eyes have rolled back into his head. I see his hands gripped tightly into Kyle's shoulders, each of them twitching slightly as they ride out their orgasms. I can't say that I don't look the same. The towel around me only prevented my seed from squirting over the carpet, but it let the sticky substance run down my leg slowly. I can only remember seeing black and white, panting while hunched over and one hand on the door.

The door which flung open very quickly once I had climaxed.

The door which had hidden me from my two friends.

My two friends, whose eyes were wide open and staring me down.  
"Kenny!?" Stan shuffled the sheets to hide him and our Jewish friend.

Oh. Shit.


	2. Tackle

I had no idea how stupid it had been to not lock the door. It would have been suspicious, but it would have prevented this little incident.

Kenny bursting in, looking fresh from…uh…his activities, Kyle hadn't even pulled out of me yet. God, I had been so stupid! As if it wasn't embarrassing enough to be a noisy fuck, being walked in on while your best friend's pounding away at you is definitely no better.

We hadn't talked that night. Just quickly cleaned up, got dressed, and went to sleep. Separately, of course. In the morning, it was only small chit-chat that our lips moved. Not one out of the three of us knew how to bring it up into conversation (not that it was going to be me, Hell no!). Just thinking about it gave me a queasy stomach.

Don't judge me. I have a very weak stomach.

I knew it was only going to get awkward on the walk home, I knew it. Kenny and I had to go the same way to get to our respective homes, and without snow tires I couldn't just drive back. Damn Colorado weather.

I kissed Kyle softly when no one was looking. "I'm sorry," he muttered silently. I knew what he was going to say. It had been his idea of a thrill to leave it unlocked; being caught was a little fantasy that could make him go wild no matter what mood he was in. But it wasn't supposed to become reality; he knew it would eat away at me until no end. I just gave a small smile, the one I used to give to Wendy in pity.

"Don't worry dude." I kissed the end of his little freckled nose, sighing. "I…I'll try to talk to him."

"I'm going to too, as soon as I can. Not fair to make you do all of the work." He blushed into the kiss, little hypocritical prude. I love it to death. Call me gay if you will, I am after all. At least for my super best friend, I can make an exception. "I'll call you as soon as we get back from Ike's hockey game, alright?"

Stereotypical. Canadian's good at hockey. I laughed, pulling my hat on my disheveled mess of black hair. "Alright. Cheer extra hard for me."

Kenny and I didn't say anything for a good ten minutes into our walk. We didn't even acknowledge Cartman as we walked past him, nor Tweek as the twitchy blonde accidentally bumped into us. I guess the both of us were just too focused on trying to think of the right words. I know I was, and once we reached the end of the block, I prepared my tongue.

"Kenny, I-"

"Stark's Pond." His face was hidden up in his hood, and it was only because of years knowing how to translate his garbled speech that I was able to understand him.

I didn't understand the reason, though. "…why there, dude? Haven't gone there since we were kids."

"It's quiet. Private. I'd rather talk there." He shrugged his shoulders, eyes all the while avoiding mine. Obviously, he was embarrassed at stumbling in, his hand still around his…ugh.

I can't bring myself to say it. It sounds so…dirty. Even I can be a hypocritical prude.

My nodding head was a sufficient answer. We skipped the turnoffs, heading over to the usually ice-cold waters of Stark's Pond. Due to all of the new videogames out now, a lot of the neighborhood kids didn't even bother coming here anymore. Only lonely old fishermen and horny teenagers came here anymore, including me. Sometimes you didn't need a warm bed to tousle your hair and stir those fuzzy desires. I was glad for my coat and red scarf, wrapping it tighter around my neck. I never remember being this cold when we were younger.

Then again, I never remember the shit that happened as a kid ever happening to anyone else.

We sat on the dock, careful of the ice. No need for the poor kid to die like this. All it would do was postpone the discussion and piss us off. This wasn't the day for same-old, same-old.

"…Stan? How long?"

I shivered a little, drawing my knees up to my chest while I felt my sore rear start to grow numb from the chill. "For what?"

He pulled back his hood, and I noticed him scoot closer to me. His hands shuffled around in the parka's sleeves, from what I guess the action to be trying to warm his fingers. "How long have you and Kyle…been…?"

I groaned mentally. "Together?"

Though it wasn't the word we probably thought of, it worked. I watched him blink for a moment, nodding. "Yeah. How long?"

"Couple of months. Only the third time for…that."

Apparently, Kenny was joining in on the hypocritical prude train. I was going to have to coin that phrase and make some money, at this rate. He ran his bare fingers through the choppy blonde mane he sported so well and sighed. Sighing seemed to be the new "in" thing as well. It looked cute on hi-

Whoa. What?

He looked at me, and I felt a red on my cheeks that wasn't from the cold. "I…I'm sorry."

You'd have to dish out the jaws of life to break up the tension between us. I just gave a little chuckle. "You're fine, Ken. We're surprised, though." After all, Kenny was the biggest boob addict on this side of town. "…what got into ya?"

I watched him frown and rest his hands on the brown faux fur trim of his parka. I knew he was threatening to hide himself, to hide his embarrassment. "I don't know." He grumbled, using a hand to shove my shoulder. "Because you look hot as the chick of the relationship."

Okay. That got me flustered a little bit. But it was a male competition game, we both knew it before we spoke the words. "Shut up Kenny!" We were both grinning now, giving fake angry faces. "You're the one having a little hands-on session."

"Wouldn't have if you weren't horny as rabbits."

I gave him a playful shove. "Next time you better pay. No more freebies."

He shoved back, and our hands locked in the play-fight. "Only if you get more interesting things shoved up your ass."

"Oh that's it!" I growled, both of us standing up and pushing each other towards the trees. We weren't out to push each other in the freezing water, after all. I felt my shoes dig into the cold snow as I grasped his waist, trying to pin him to the ground like some sort of WWE wrestler. Kenny just braced himself, pushing back and throwing me off to the side.

"That all you got Marsh?" He chuckled, bending down and prepared for another move. "That shit on TV doesn't work in real life!" I met him as he rushed me, his shoulder pushing against my chest. I wrapped my arms around him in a bear hug-like move, spinning us around as our feet fought to push the other over.

"We'll see about that! You're going _down_ McCormick!" came my reply, making my voice go deep like one of those wrestlers' voices. It roughed up my throat, making me laugh and cough at the same time as Kenny dug his heels into the frozen ground, stopping our spin.

He grabbed the sleeves of my coat, fingers desperately holding on. He had that look on him as he whipped his stare up to meet mine. That look meant that he wasn't going to give up so easily. Fool's courage. He had his lips cocked up in that mock-Elvis impression. Then, in as much of a deep voice as he could, he replied with a simple: "I'd like to see you try, little man!"

It got us both laughing to a point where our manly wrestling match was more like a couple of drunken bums using each other to keep from falling on their faces. The snow kicked up at our feet, soaking the bottom of our pants and seeping through our shoes. We didn't care. The contest was still on, Kenny closer to the bottom.

"Aha!" I pushed all of my weight on top of him, determined to pin him and win this once and for all. I was almost successful.

Until he shoved a big huge snowball in my face, that is.

I coughed, forgetting for a moment that I was close to victory. "Son of a bitch!" I focused on removing the offending cold material for my skin, and hand the wind taken out from me.

Kenny grinned from above, that cheeky little bastard. Snow still clung to my face, numbing my nose. The blonde had straddled my hips, his hands holding mine up above my head. It didn't occur to us this seemingly close position. I just frowned as he grinned wider.

"Gotcha."

Again, what a cheeky bastard. "You cheated." I tried to yank one of my hands away, determined to make him suffer the same snowy doom he had forced upon me. "I'm going to make you pay for that!" He didn't even let me up, just pushed my wrists deeper into the snow.

"If you can stop enjoying being on the bottom for once, I'd feel real threatened." There was pink on his cheeks, and I just dismissed it for the frigidity of our surroundings. As if to make my threat null, he flicked more snow onto my face. "Admit defeat, Stan!"

I shook my head, feeling my hat slip off a little. Great, like I needed wet, cold hair. "Never!" I laughed, kicking up with my feet as best as I could. All I succeeded in doing was flicking snow the opposite way and flopping around like a fish. Damn it. I wasn't ready to call it quits just yet. "I will win this!"

"Dude, I top. You lost." He leaned closer, just to laugh closer to my face. "So what are you gonna do about it?"

"Get any closer and I might just _bite_ ya!" I bared my teeth and clicked for good measure.

He faked shivering. The motion from where he was sent a surprise jolt up my spine, causing me to gasp out a little bit. Kenny raised his eyebrow. "Why Stan Marsh, I didn't know you were into that kind of stuff." He apparently didn't notice my little moment of weakness. "I'd like to see you try."

So I did. I raised my head, teeth enclosing on the closest thing I could: his bottom lip. Now I didn't bite hard, I had learned my lesson on that. Blood is not a turn on, and all it does is make me quea-

Whoa. What? What the hell am I thinking!?

We froze for a second. It wasn't hard to do with the chill out, after all. But both of our eyes were wide, my teeth still clamped lightly on his lip. I did feel him give a light shiver again, this time it was real. He tightened his grip on my wrists, and pushed his head _forwards_.

What the hell!?

He must have realized his mistake, he pulled away. In my self-shock, my bite had loosened and left my mouth half-open. Kenny frowned. "I…sorry."

"Don't be." Did I just say that? God, what the hell was I doing!?

"What?"

He let me sit up, still straddling my lap and one of his hands grasping the rough material of my wet coat. "…what were you thinking last night dude?"

He frowned, eyes avoiding mine again. Great. Awkward once more. "You mean why the hell you and Kyle were fucking, or something else?"

Was that spite in his voice? All it did was make me growl in annoyance. "I meant why the hell you thought it was cool to jack off to our fucking." I must have shocked him with my bluntness, I know I sure as hell did. I'm not a perceptive kind of dude, so any inner thoughts are usually lost in translation. And I couldn't translate why Kenny looked so hurt when I said that.

"Fuck, I don't know." An honest-sounding answer. But it was a lie, he just didn't know it.

"Fuck, you _do _know!" I grasped his coat right back. Our moment of anger wasn't at each other, we came to realize. It was just confusion and frustration. Kenny tried to shift out of my grip. I had no intention of letting go, and the fabric strained under my hand.

"Let me go Stan. I don't wanna get into it."

"Too bad. Tell me, damn it."

He was persistent, I'll give him that much. But even though he could pin me, He couldn't out-muscle me. Both of his hands gripped at mine, trying their best to remove it. "Since when did you care so much, eh!?"

I felt guilty. The poor dude looked ready to cry. But I couldn't let up; it was "my inner jock." I had to win somehow, or suffer the fate of trying. "Since we were friends, after all. Now tell me."

"…no."

I pushed my face closer to his again, because the frustrated growl in my throat would only let me speak so loud. "What the hell's your problem, Kenny!?"

"You! Kyle! You two!" He blurted, baring his teeth at me again. "That's my fucking problem!"

I must have taken it the wrong way. I saw red for a moment; forced myself to calm down. "If you have problem with what we do together, you can go shove it."

"I don't! It's…"

I softened. God damn it, I thought women were supposed to be the confusing ones! I let go of my death grip, it becoming a casual hand on his shoulder. "It's what?"

He sighed, clenching his teeth. "…what's it like?"

There's not a lot that can catch me off guard, or at least I'd like to think. But that mentally knocked me on my ass. "…huh?"

"Forget it, fuck it." He tried to get up, but there was no way in hell I was going to let up now. I was close to getting through that cryptic prick's message. He gave a light "hmph," narrowing his eyes at me. "I said forget it Stan."

I sighed. "It's…well…what do you want to know?"

Kenny forgot about his earlier message, crossing his arms. "What's it like being with Kyle?"

Damn, he was adorable when he was flustered. Gah! Damn it Marsh! Since when did I think other boys were cute? Oh wait… "Like being with anyone you like, I guess."

"You and I both know I didn't hook up with kids because I liked who they were."

I clicked my tongue. "Then I can't explain it, dude."

I felt my cheeks grow hot at his next sentence. "Then show me."

"…what?"

His face softened. "Just pretend I'm Kyle. Show me?"

Whoa. WHOA. Holy shit. Fuck! "…uh…"

"You wanna know what I was thinking?" Kenny was known to shock the socks off of people, but I was still getting over his last statement. "When I was watching you two? How much I'd like to be one of you. There. I just want to feel that for once."

Holy shit.

The blonde continued. "Dude, everyone can see it. I know you guys think no one notices you oogling each other. I notice. I want to know what it feels like. Can you show me, just for a little while?"

"Dude, I'm not going to pretend you're Kyle!" So wrong…I didn't want to cheat on my best friend with my other friend! This was insane! I brought my hand to grip the bridge of my nose. "Jesus Christ…"

I felt him shift. "Fine. Forget I said anything." He didn't move this time though, and his voice was laced with more disappointment more than venom.

I felt the sigh slip before I could stop it. "…Look. I'm not going to pretend. Fuck that." With that, I reached over, cupping his chin and turning his face. I don't know what possessed me, but I leaned over and gave him a little, innocent peck on the cheek. It was the same thing I did to Kyle when we first started our little secret dating.

He was confused, I could see that plainly. Something that didn't need translating through this fucking human body language. "…dude?"

"You said you wanted to see. I'm showing you." I nuzzled my nose closer to his neck, wrapping my arms around him like some sort of big protective guard dog. What the hell was I doing?

He shivered, his hands still on my chest as the space between us quickly disappeared. It felt so different than Kyle or Wendy. His skinny frame gave him a more fragile aura, and I didn't want to break him. "C'mere," I mumbled, shifting him so that he could curl up closer on my lap. Adorable little bastard.

One of his hands broke free of my grasp, brushing away a few strands of his hair before he moved to mine. My hat had fallen off in our little argument, and it lay soaked in the snow. I felt his fingertips brush at my scalp, playing with a few tweaked-out strands. Our foreheads touched, and I noticed how much his shivering really was from the cold.

"Jesus Ken." I pulled his hand down in my own, using my other one to unbutton my coat. It was thick material, meaning that at least my shirt was dry inside. Dry, and warm. "C'mere, you're gonna freeze." He didn't have to be told twice as I felt his skinny arms wrap around me. It was enough to make my skin tighten a little bit.

My generosity earned me a small smile. "Thanks dude."

His eager insecurity was too cute. Too fucking cute. With that smile, there went my hope of ever looking at him the same way again. Where was that pervert I knew best? I just chuckled, basically cuddling him closer and resting my chin on top of his head. He sighed, leaning his ear on my chest.

"Dude. Gay."

He knew I was only teasing. He snuggled closer, and I was positive he was listening to my heartbeat. "Shut up Stan. I'm cold."

Yeah. I bet you are, Kenny. I bet you are. I just slowly ran my fingers through his hair, still soft from the shower last night. "Hnn." My other hand just curled up around him like a little protective shield. It wasn't hard to do. I had a few pounds of muscle on the guy.

His little mumble of protest was lost to my ears. I felt him rubbing his hands slowly up and down my back, one of them coming back to grasp at the fabric of my shirt just above my bellybutton. The muscle automatically twitched, that jolt running through my spine and back down between my legs. I gave a little moaning sigh, turning my head to kiss his cheek.

"Careful down there," I whispered. "I don't want blue balls."

I felt him chuckle evilly. Ah. Kenny's back. "Who says I won't finish you right here?"

I felt that pang of guilt again. I shook my head. "Not that, dude. Please."

Kenny out of all people should understand. I wasn't the cheating kind of guy, and even though no one knew Kyle and I were an item it was still the law. I couldn't cheat on him like that. I'm not that much of an asshole. "Alright," he breathed, curling up closer. "Alright."

"Thanks."

I felt him chuckle as he let himself slip a little bit away. "You're really warm. Never expected that."

"Dude, do you have a crush on me or something?" I held him closer, giving a little yawn. Cuddling was always the nighttime sleeping activity, not the daytime I-think-that-one-of-my-friends-needs-some-comfort activity. I couldn't help but droop my eyes, even in the cold.

"Yes. Kyle too." I felt him lift up his head and kiss under my chin, smiling as his lips left my skin. Well damn.

"Surprised me. I thought you liked boobs."

"Look where it got me every stinking time."

"You have a point." I chuckled, looking down. Our noses brushed up against each other, eyes half-lidded in that supposed-to-wait-for-summer sleepiness. Lightly, he brought his lips to mine. I almost forgot to close my eyes and kiss back, but I did at the last possible moment. It wasn't a passionate kiss. I don't think that's what Kenny truly wanted, anyways.

I didn't know he was out looking for a little puppy love.

I think we stayed curled up with each other for a good fifteen minutes more. I was perfectly comfortable, except for the detail that I was sitting in snow and that my ass already needed time to recover. I grabbed my hat, and we pulled away from each other and sat up. The lack of each other's body heat made our shivers even more pronounced.

"It feels like that all the time?"

Sometimes Kenny could be naïve. When it came to sexual things though, that's where he was champ. Emotions like this didn't have a place in sex. I shrugged as I re-buttoned my coat. "Most of the time. It's inhuman to think you won't be fighting. Two people can't agree on everything."

"Oh." He sighed, digging his hands into his pockets. I already wanted to invade his personal space yet again and make that fuzzy feeling come back. Damn it…I'm getting too gay for my own good.

"Listen. I guess me and you are cool, but you should talk to Kyle when he gets back today. Want me to call you when he calls me?"

There was nervousness on his face. I guess he was making it easier for me to read him, where unlike before he was hiding it right out of my reach. "Yeah. Don't tell him anything though, okay?"

I mentally crossed my fingers. You can't expect me to not prepare Kyle for the fact that Kenny's going to be fawning over him and possibly pull at his heartstrings. Kyle's a lot less mushy than me, I'll admit that. Years of dealing with Cartman gave him that talent as natural as breathing. "Alright man. I won't say a word. You get all the glory for telling him he's the object of your wet dreams."

Another play push was my reward for my horrid joke. "Hah. Thanks." We parted ways, heading back to our individual homes to change and warm up.

Adorable bastard.


End file.
